After a year of living at home with parents, recuperating, and looking for a job, I finally found a job and, most importantly a place that will let me have cats.

After what happened to me in Kermit and after much reflection on my weaknesses and strengths, I decided to leave teaching altogether. Even though I subbed while looking for real job, I now had no illusions or delusions of grandeur that teaching was my one true calling in life. It wasn't. I had to move on.

Throughout the ordeal of being a teacher and my neck surgery, the one constant was Kingsford and Lacey. They were with me and offered solace in times of desperation and self-loathing. I often felt worthless and insignificant in this grand scheme called the American economy. However, my cats were there. At least they needed me. That and having family was what held me steady. I couldn't give up because of my family and, don't laugh, my cats.

This last year (2002), I found out that Kingsford was diabetic. That was a shock. I was worried that I would have to put him to sleep, a thought that I couldn't bear. However, I decided that if it was only diabetes, I could learn to give him insulin twice daily. I did and now it is no problem. He is taking four units twice a day and he is now his old normal self. He is close to 12 now and is slowing down, but with the shots he has a lot of spunk and catitude left in him. He and Lacey still wrestle with each other. He is back up to jumping on the table, looking out the window and waiting to get at those god forsaken evil hordes of communist stray cats that inhabit the complex. One time he even charged out at one when I opened the door to scare away a visiting cat. However, as soon as he got out, he panicked and decided to come back in after the interloper left the immediate premises. At least he tried to be brave.

Lacey just abhors these visiting cats. Whenever she sees one out the window, she will go postal, or ballistic if you aren't familiar with the concept of going postal. A few years back, several postal workers decided to take vengeance out on fellow workers and supervisors. As a result, a new term came to be used in the colloquial language of the U.S.

I get a laugh out of her doing that because she gets so serious. I know she has spotted some other cat outside by her growl and seeing her tail twitch side to side as it sticks out from under the blinds. She will even scratch at the glass trying to get at the wicked little transgressor and trespasser sitting outside the window all smug and superior taunting poor little Lacey until she can't stand it anymore. She even wakes me up in the middle of the night bouncing off the windowsill next to my bed and onto my gut. Of course this wakes me up out of a semi-sound sleep. Most unwelcome, especially after a long day of transportation planning. I yell at her and she doesn't do it until a couple of minutes later. Then I had to resort to shutting my door and keeping her out of the bedroom. Well, you would have thought I tossed her outside. She would stay at the door scritch-scratching at the door, meowing in her very loud plaintive meow. After a few nights of this, I figured I didn't want the neighbors to get mad because of her meowing. So I caved in and let her back in. For a while she still was up acting as a night guard protecting my property from unwanted feline intruders. I got used to it. Lately, she doesn't seem to do that much, since the number of unwanted visitors has decreased. Maybe her devoted and dedicated actions scared them away?

Now she generally hops up in bed along with Kingsford and they sleep cuddled together taking a whole third of the bed for themselves. Many nights, I have had to go to the couch to sleep, but after a while, both of them come over and hop on the couch, again denying me full use of the space. But they look so cute all cuddled together that I just couldn't bring myself to push them off the bed or couch. Even if I do, they just hop back up. I think they have got me trained. Many a morning I have gone into work a bit sleepy because I couldn't roll over and get comfortable. I just tell the secretary that it was the cats. She is an animal lover so she understands and laughs.

Kingsford, who I told you earlier was diabetic, is an old cat now. His activity level isn't what it was, but that is normal. He follows me around and doesn't wander too far away from me. When I come home, he is there on the couch or next to the porch window. When I open the door, he looks at me and I meow and pet him. He then meows back a welcome. Lacey is usually next to him and she often tries to come to the door to get out, but I shut it before she does. After all the traveling I have done with her and Kingsford, I don't want to accidentally lose him or her. But I am mostly concerned about her since she is so adventuresome. I like to call her Danger Kitty because she is so brash and impulsive.

I am glad that through the moves, I have kept my two cats and found a home for Baby. She is now my brother's cat. He lives with a friend with three other cats. My brother still has his dog Buddy. I occasionally visit his place and get to see Baby and Buddy. She doesn't remember me. Buddy does. She is a part of another family now. My brother says that his roommate thinks of Baby as his own.

Without the cats and their companionship and my family, I don't know how I would have handled what I have been through. They were a stabilizing influence, a close second to my family. They offered comfort, even though they don't know it, and gave me the strength to move on and face the world another day. I thank them everyday I see them. I thank God for allowing them to come into my life. Life goes on and it is much more pleasant having them around.

Copyright © William T. Chandler
January 2003